Concerning The Apparent Struggle Between Neurons & Hormones.
When beethoven sits down to improvise --
even doc holliday will get up and leave the table.

For the certain man’s game: there is no such thing as drawing-too-fast;
in his rarefied sport: only the premature is soon enough.

A rebel lost his taste for toast when he finally understood that
the toaster operates by simply reacting to contact with bread.

Every method ever devised to achieve Enlightenment/Liberation/Awakening
is an attempt to keep the toaster from turning on just because the bread enters it.

Consciousness plays instant ping pong with everything that touches it,
and with its memory of everything that has:
consciousness: a door that cannot open without closing.

The trap is also the release  –
but it keeps trapping the release mechanism before it can take hold.

For the rebel's intent there is no: too-quickly.

A Tale.
A general presented the sword he had taken from the enemy leader he had slain,
to the king, who hung it with great pride above his throne,
which all who saw it took as an emblem of his valor and strength,
but it proved to be an act for which he quickly became ashamed,
and with deep private embarrassment, he reversed.

In Re The Memory & The Monumental.
There is but one thing memorable to the man who has awakened  --
and it is a thing that an ordinary consciousness would find impossible to remember.

Those without art-eyes see a picasso and say: “What is it?”
while one not trapped by city sight could simply like it, no comments needed.
Once bread has touched consciousness -- it’s too late to do anything about it;
the automatic browning it has always done to that particular slice, it will always do.
One fine day a man stopped and pondered:
    “Is it literally impossible to change your consciousness from its natural state?”
It is certain true that you will never depart paris if every act that takes place
in your consciousness occurs in paris.
    “So! –  I was right: you can’t actually ever wake up from man’s mental dream!”
The thoughts that automatically appear in your consciousness is your individual
dream world, and if they constitute the full extent of your consciousness
then indeed, your statement is correct.

Proverb Reaffirmation.
In the special intangible reality that man only perceives:
What you don’t know can’t hurt you:
what your consciousness never thinks of can have no effect on you:
what else does an alert man need to know.

A man who will say anything about himself (which is to say:
will allow his consciousness to say anything about itself) has proved he’s asleep.
You have to be in a dream to let a toaster speak for you.

Neurons can never yell loud enough to be heard by hormones.

Symphony players wanting to be paid by the note is like the
toaster of consciousness taking credit for every crumb-idea it has warmed.

The thoughts that pop up automatically in consciousness can never see that
what they touch, they scorch out shape and deplete of nourishment.

Unless extraordinary efforts are made in advance:
when consciousness just hears the phone ring  –  it’s already too late.

Only a total recluse is completely free  –   and even he’s not when he thinks about it.

Conversation,
“There is a power struggle going on inside of everyone.”
    “I’m not sure it should be called an actual power-struggle.”
“So what would you call it?”
    “Hum-m-m.......let me think about it.”
“I rest my case.”

He noted as he departed the medical office building:
“I don’t let nobody else diagnose my condition for me  --   it ain’t healthy.”

Cautioned one fellow another:
“If you don’t tell people it’s a joke, they won’t know  it’s a joke,”
and the other rejoined: “Well life doesn’t tell people!”

The Ultimate Wrestling-With-It.
Summed up a neuro sumo to a friend:
“I say: Fuck off!  to anything that causes my consciousness to think of something.”
    “And that would have to include almost everything, huh?!”
“Damn near!  (except as always for the few)  --